Time After Time
by Elle the Brat
Summary: Songfic. 'There were no warm covers, no comforting body, no steady heartbeat to lull him to sleep. There hadn’t been for ten years.' Twincentric.


A/N- Right, so, songfic. I apologise in advance for crappiness.

Disclaimer - I disclaim.

* * *

_Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick and think of you._

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

On any other night, he would have been asleep.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

On any other night, he'd be dreaming of how he and his brother used to hold each-other until sleep came.

Tick.

Tock.

Ti—

…On any other night, he wouldn't've gotten up to remove the batteries from his clock.

But it wasn't any other night, he wasn't dreaming about his brother, and he _had_ gotten up to remove the batteries from his clock. There was no-one waiting in his bed, ready to ask why he felt the need to kill their only way of waking up on time for school. There were no warm covers, no comforting body, no steady heart-beat to lull him to sleep.

There hadn't been for ten years.

_Caught up in circles, confusion is nothing new._

Sometimes, if he tried really hard, he could remember what it was like to be pressed against soft flesh. Sometimes, he could convince himself that his brother was just getting ready for bed, taking his sweet time finding his pants so that he would get impatient and drag him in.

And sometimes, when he couldn't sleep, memories of the two of them flashed past. But he could never be sure that what he saw, was ever what really happened.

He'd spend hours trying to sort out what was real and what was his imagination, and as soon as he thought he figured it out, he'd remember something that sent him right back to the beginning.

It was enough to make him want to tear his hair out, but he couldn't. He spent half his day, looking in the mirror, trying to see his brother.

He'd forgotten the differences between them – there was no longer "Hikaru" and "Kaoru". There was just one, and when he put two mirrors to reflect the other, they were there, and they were together again.

_Flashback, warm nights, almost left behind, _

_Suitcase of memories, time after-- _

After he'd spent a long day making arrangements, offering reassuring words and biting back scathing words, he couldn't help but think of _what_, what had caused it.

Maybe it was when – Or, no, how about that time – No, no, definitely not. How about when they – No.

No, no, no.

Everything came back to it.

"No," was what he had said when they announced the disaster.

"No," was the reply he got when he asked if there had been a mistake.

And "no," was what everyone else had said when they heard the news.

He had wanted to go after his brother so much, had wanted to hug him and kiss him and tell him that nothing would happen, because Big Brother Hikaru was there and that there was nothing to worry about anymore, that he would protect him and love him and make sure that he was always safe and warm and _happy_.

_Sometimes you picture me, I'm walking too far ahead._

Rather rudely, they had been forced from the World of Us. The gates had slammed shut behind them, standing tall and firm and keeping them out of what was rightfully theirs, but what couldn't belong to them any longer. They loomed over them, casting shadows and creating a foreboding atmosphere.

They had run away, as fast as their legs could carry them. They weren't welcome in the World of Us, and they weren't welcome in the World of Them, or Their World.

But separate, they were allowed into those two worlds. They clung to each-other desperately as long as they could, trying even after they were worlds apart.

_You're calling to me._

He, he had taken the first step. He had waited for his other to catch up, but instead of stopping, his twin took off at a sprint.

And suddenly, he was alone.

No matter how many times he yelled and screamed and kicked and punched and _cried_, his brother his lover his friend his life didn't come back.

_I can't hear what you've said._

Eventually, he started running after him. But he was long gone – the tracks in the dust had faded, had been covered, just like him. There was no point, he had decided, and then he sat down and stopped crying.

Tears would do no good, no good, _no good_. Tears weren't his baby brother, tears weren't going to hold him and stroke his hair and whisper that everything was fine and that Kaoru was there and that nothing would hurt them anymore and that they were _there_ and they were _real_ and they were _together_ not _apart_ but they were they were they _were_ and he wanted to scream it as loud as he could for as long as he could because he wanted to feel his throat tear and _he wanted his brother back_.

And so he screamed silently. He screamed inside his mind, he screamed until he couldn't scream anymore and even then he still kept screaming. And his other couldn't wouldn't _shouldn't hear_.

And in the end that was what was killing him. Ten years, ten years, ten years. Like a caterpillar that spits acid it was eating away at him, and not even his brother was there to sooth him, to whisper his name and make the caterpillar go away, because the bug would only turn into a beautiful butterfly when he was dead dead dead and he didn't _want_ to be dead he just wanted it to _go away_.

_Then you say; go slow. I fall behind._

And when the caterpillar was sleeping and he wanted to call his other, he couldn't, because he couldn't drag him down and he didn't deserve to have his problems but they were twins and they shared _everything_, even bugs that didn't exist but ate away at you until you were nothing but a shell who stands in front of mirrors and talks to them and acts like things were normal and fine.

He didn't want to be in front of him – didn't want his brother to fall behind and be like him. He wanted them to both be at the same spot, and it was selfish but he knew that his brother wanted it too and the only thing that was stopping them were a few countries, laws and water.

_The second hand unwinds_.

And when he's sitting alone in what used to be their room, and when he's holding toys they played with when they were little and piggy banks that they trusted to hold all of their secrets. When he's sitting at the table and staring into a glass of expensive wine that he doesn't know the name of, and even when he's standing in the shower and missing the extra body that would laugh and smile and joke and wash his hair and scrub his back, he wonders how when why his brother was chosen and not him.

It wasn't right and it didn't make sense and it makes him throw toys and piggy banks across the room, it makes him shatter wine glasses and it makes him break the glass doors of the shower. _He_ was the elder, _he_ was the heir, _he_ should have been in his brother's place and then they would have both been living together and having fun and ignoring everything anything _everything_.

The second born, the second, the second, the second was not the first and the second was never never never engaged in political marriages it was always the first and _why wasn't it him? _

_If you're lost you can look and you will find me._

And after he's thrown the toys and broken the glass and called someone to fix the showers, he curls onto what used to be their bed in what used to be their room and tries to hold on to what used to be his brother's scent, and even though it's been ten years, he thinks he can smell the shampoo they used to use. He holds the phone, and he stares at it, and he can't get the courage or the strength to call what used to be his courage and his strength, because now it's living in a house in some country he can't recall with a wife and two kids and memories of a life he can't return to.

And he remembers their promises, and he – gently, because he doesn't want to lose his only way of contacting his brother – puts the phone on the nightstand and he hugs what used to be his brother's pillow and he doesn't cry, but he lays there, remembering and forgetting and remembering again.

And halfway across the world, his twin his brother his lover his life is doing the same thing, minus the destruction, and they both cry for what they've lost and for what they'll never have and for what never happened, because the caterpillar is eating at both of them and it answers to only one name, and its one that neither of them want to acknowledge so they'll wait until the family reunion and they'll sneak away like they used to and then then _then_ they'll be together like they always had been.

And it's a continuous cycle and it won't end ever it'll just keep going like time. It'll keep going like the water that keeps them apart and the rules they have to follow. It's a dangerous cycle and it hurts them both _so much_ and they both just want it to end but it can't it won't and so they keep following and following and following and hoping.

_Time after time._


End file.
